


debate half empty and half full

by tnevmucric



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bodyswap, Dialogue Heavy, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, my own private idaho references, rly gentle, somewhat canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-03 01:23:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16316435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnevmucric/pseuds/tnevmucric
Summary: anything you said





	debate half empty and half full

Fresh air hits his skin.

It has no personality nor any empathy to share, and peels his eyes open with claws of sunlight: a natural x-ray that he wished would burn off his cornea. That he wished would set alight his new twin size bed.

He feels his neck start to sweat and stares at the ceiling. The star covered ceiling.

A soft peach colour brightens the room. Plain white sheets should cut into the tranquillity but they don't. The pillows are fluffy and don't make his nose itch and smell of citrus and bergamot. Pictures are tacked to the walls: streets and skies he doesn't recognise. There are even striped bed-socks balled up on the floor from wear. Sparkled nail polish stains the bed frame. A tube of vanilla Chapstick is on the vanity in the corner, next to a stack of overflowing notebooks and half empty pens.

A space radiates.

A space between the vanity and the dresser where two handles align. It is immediately grounding. There's a sense that he knows he's been here before (even if he hasn't). There is not one other place that looks like that space. Exactly like that space. It's one of a kind. One of a kind like someone's face.

Like a fucked up face.

"I like your room", Akira whispers, like a secret.

In the mirror, he is taller. Leaner. He has blemishes on his cheeks and his hair is a kind of light brown. A white birthmark splotches his thigh and a freckle itches on his wrist- right on the bone. There's a soft morning flush on his cheeks that almost creates a glow. He sways and his reflection follows. He juts his hip out on an angle and the shirt crinkles with him (a dusted pink with some wannabe vintage design pressed into it). There is something to be said about the pallor of his skin: the odd shape of his nose, too.

Akira lets his gaze wander to the edges of the mirror, noticing the varying stickers scratched into the wood around it with age. Another glow in the dark star. A picture of... a cat? He looks in the mirror again. His socks are patterened. There are bruises on his knees, just small bumps that were more than likely born from a low coffee table or cabinet.

A phone rings. Distant, like it is down many hallways, but loud. Intrusive in such a quiet place. Akira frowns and looks away from the reflection, slowly moving across the room and creaking open the door. It's an odd sensation: soft music leaking from the bedroom and out into the main apartment area, mingling uncomfortably with noises from the outside world and the landline combined. His leg jolts as he hits a coffee table and he recoils. It is scattered with papers covered in a loopy, blue ink scrawl. There's a couch that looks like it hasnt been touched in a while, but a pillow on the floor surrounded by a knit blanket. He knows he passed a door that looked like a bathroom- so the place must be small. Small and cosy. The phone keeps ringing. The fridge is covered in sticky notes and magnets and there's an assortment of plants on the window sill. He fumbles with the phone and holds it to his ear, answering in a tone he doesn't yet understand or know to control.

"Hello."

It's not the first time he's felt timid. When he was fourteen they were having a family gathering and his aunt kept pinching his cheeks and holding him around the shoulders, making him feel small and malleable. It feels different this time, though. It borders on anxious. He clenches his hand in his shirt and twists one foot behind the other.

"Hi", Akira hears his own voice bite out, like it's gasped for breath. He glances at the room again. It's open plan but small. The kitchen is colourful. A dining table is designed for two people by the window. Post-it notes are everywhere, not just the fridge. A random briefcase is stashed beside a bookshelf, seeming too out of place.

"I-"

"Look-"

His instinct is to chew on his thumb nail until it bleeds but these aren't his hands. These aren't his nails- his nails have little calcium dots, these ones are coated in a light pink. It takes a long moment for the stranger to restart.

"Are you new to Tokyo? Your room doesn't look very lived in."

"Yeah", Akira twists his foot again, "I've been here a few months now."

"Medication?"

"Top drawer to the right of the bed. Any-?"

"No", the other cuts in, the phone line crackling under his tone. "You're not going to panic, are you?"

"I don't think so", the apartment feels like something straight off of Pinterest. The floorboards are a light brown. He has _slippers_ in the corner. "There's a lot to focus on here."

"I'm glad." The next silence isn't so much of a silence as it is a mutant compilation of quiet guitar strumming, the sound of a mocha being made and scooters running outside. "Goro Akechi." Akira wonders where the music is coming from.

But the name- it tastes like vanilla bean ice-cream. "I'm Akira."

"It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Is my cat there?"

"Your-", maybe Goro has speakers hooked around his place, because Akira for sure didn't see a mobile anywhere, "It ran the moment it saw me."

"Huh. I guess he could tell."

"Perhaps", a small smile can be heard and he briefly wonders if his voice is so easy to understand or if it's just the fact he's lived with it his whole life. "I apologise if I seem... _standoff-ish_. I didn't anticipate this."

"You're acting really staged."

"Excuse me?"

The guy has a framed David Bowie album for goddsake.

"You're acting like I'm _not_ literally in your body right now, in your _home_ ", Akira reiterates, "You sound like a robot, and somehow I feel like that doesn't match you... but, I mean, it might match your intentions."

"... Right."

"Trying to brush me off?"

"No", Goro replies immediately, "I- oh, your cat's back."

"Mona", he coos,"put him on the phone."

"What?"

"Put him on the phone."

"It's a cat."

"He _misses_ me."

"I'm afraid he can't tell you're missing judging by how friendly he's acting."

"Traitor."

"Again, a _cat_."

"Have you been down to see Sojiro?"

Goro pauses. Akira thinks he breathes too heavily.

"Yes", he replies eventually, "I explained the situation."

"What did he say?"

"He rolled his eyes at me and wished me luck."

"Ah."

"Delinquent?"

"He did _not_ say that."

"I guessed", the phone line crackles again, "Who are the people in the pictures?"

Akira leans against the wall, squinting his eyes into an almost close.

"The blonde girl is Ann and the spiky haired guy is Ryuji, they're like an old married couple. Yusuke is the tall one in all the pictures, he paints."

"I recognise Nijima."

"Oh? Are you friends?"

"I work with her sister", there's nothing welcoming in the fact, "Who are the two surrounded by flowers?"

"Futaba and Haru", Akira lets himself slide down the wall until he's sitting, the cold floor creating goosebumps up his legs. "They're nice. Haru's a lot like you, judging by your apartment. Futaba doesn't go outside a lot- that was a rare occasion."

"For _a few months_ you seemed to have developed quite the life."

"It's not home." Akira feels his face scrunch but the wrinkles are wrong- they're certainly not his own. "What about you? Tell me something."

Even if it's heavy, it's comforting to listen to himself breathe through different ears. It's comforting and (in the words themselves) an out of body expereince that doesn't send him into a full blown panic like it should.

"You can be yourself", he adds as an afterthought, "sometimes it's easier when you're with a stranger."

"I'm nineteen", Goro is quiet. Akira hears a familar head-thunk against wall. Rustling. Mona purring, maybe. "I... I do some freelancing detective work. It's not fun."

"What _is_ fun?"

"Home", he laughs a little. "You must've thought you were in a girls room."

"It's so pretty", Akira says honestly, "I love it. It feels safe."

"I- ... it does, doesnt it?"

"Are you okay?"

"I may be panicking a short amount."

"That's probably me. Take two of the pills, there should be a water bottle by the side of the bed."

"Okay."

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

The song changes. It sounds like it belongs on screen.

"How long is this supposed to last?", Goro asks. Akira pulls the phone away to look at the time on the microwave, stretching around the counter from his place on the floor.

"Another twenty minutes or so. We missed out on a lot of time."

"Oh."

"Eager to leave?"

"No. You're... it's actually quite comforting here."

"I live in an attic, Goro."

"It's _quiet_ ", Goro insists. "Trashy, but quiet."

He snorts and curls his arms around his knees, loosely holding the phone near his cheek. "Tell me more about you, I wanna know everything before we go."

"Ask me anything", Goro is quiet again. "I'll tell you."

There's an unsettling amount of trust instilled in the distance through the phone. It makes Akira's heart clench and his stomach turn- he holds onto the hair by his neck. Not hard, but there.

"First thought when I answered."

"That I sound like I'm coming down with a cold."

"Favourite colour?"

"Peach."

"Favourite song?"

"I don't have one."

"What? _Really?_ " Goro laughs softly. Akira thinks it doesn't sound like him. It's inflection is different, more gentle.

"Nothing that immediately sticks. What's your favourite song?"

"Maybe... maybe like that one Drake song. I think he's dancing in the music video."

"Please tell me you're kidding."

"Yeah, I am. I like anything by Death Cab."

"Better."

"Whose cat do you have a picture of on your mirror?"

"Mine, when I was very young", Akira hears a muffled thump. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen. That okay?"

"It's only two years. You need a better wardrobe."

"I- _what?_ Don't go through my wardrobe."

"Khaki? Really?"

"This is coming from a guy wearing no pants. Well, I'm wearing no pants _for_ you. You know what I mean."

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting to switch last night", the eye roll is audible, "why haven't you put pants on?"

"I'm comfy", Akira replies defiantly, "you said you were a detective? Not good if you have Psycho Killer playing over your stereo at 7 AM."

"Work and leisure are two different things. Are your glasses seriously fake?"

"Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?"

"Throw them out before the next seventeen minutes are up."

"You wouldn't dare."

"It would do wonders for your features. Wear the blue sweater more often."

"Noted", he picks at the nail polish on his thumb. "How are you a detective at nineteen? Did you graduate really early?"

"I work under my father and I worked hard in school", Goro replies easily, "I graduated at the same time as everyone else."

"Maybe I'll get you to tutor me."

"Your math grade _is_ appalling."

"Stop snooping. _I'm_ not snooping."

"It's literally on your desk with a sad face sticker over the date."

"I'm a compulsive buyer", he insists, "It's better to put it to good use by reminding myself of my failures in a reinforcing way than to spend that money on other stuff. Mona's stopped helping me with equations."

"You take your cat to school?"

"Yeah. He ate my homework once."

"I believe you."

"Thanks. I like your room."

"Thank you", there's a pause, "thanks. I feel like I'm not being honest."

"I think you are", Akira doesn't know if he's lying, "You can be snarky _and_ a total softie for the 80s."

"90s. I should have hired interior decorators."

"Loaded? Pay my college tuition for next year, I beg you."

"No. You want to go to college?"

"No."

"What do you want to do?"

Goro's apartment lacks picture frames and is only a little overwhelming behind the sweetness of it all. Akira would bet that an assortment of pastries were in his cupboard.

"Do you have birds?", he asks instead, a bag of bird seed leaning against the dining chair. He thinks Goro shakes his head.

"No, but I feed some by the kitchen window."

"Sounds nice. I think I want to run away when school's over- just dissappear off the face of the earth, you know?"

"I know."

"Think you'd wanna come with me?"

"Take me on a date first."

"I could do that."

"Are you okay?" He closes eyes he's never stared from and he's worried about how harsh they may be.

"It feels so safe here, I want to fall asleep. How do you get anything done?"

"Ten minutes. I work at the office, I try not to bring stuff back to the apartment. What's your favourite colour?"

"Light blue. Would you want to meet me after this? I know a lot of people choose not to."

"I don't think you'd like me if you knew me, Akira."

"I like you now", the knot in his throat hurts, "That could be enough."

"For _now_ ", Akira never knew his voice could insinuate so much. "You're really tired."

"I am."

"Were you up all night?"

"Most nights."

"Insomnia?"

"No, nightmares."

"Of what?"

"You should hang some lavender around the house", he's getting closer to ripping off the cuticles that aren't his to tear, "That friend I mentioned, Haru? She got me to hang lavender in my wardrobe and stuff. Helps with moths and it smells nice. It's also calming. Helps with migraines."

"I get migraines quite often."

"Oh? Why?"

"I had a fall when I was younger, a bunch of dogs knocked me down."

"Ouch. Favourite movie?"

"Thumbelina."

"I wasn't expecting that."

"What were you expecting?"

"Moulin Rouge."

"It's in my top twelve. What's yours? Don't say Fight Club."

"It's actually Labyrinth."

"I was not expecting that."

"Glad I can surprise you."

"What do you get nightmares about?"

Akira bites his tongue and almost chokes out an apology.

"Family."

"Bad?"

"Yeah."

"I lied about my favourite song", the man currently inhabiting his body is evil, Akira decides. He knows how to talk and it's annoying because he's _good_ at it. He knows if and when to say things and his words are injected with ugly things, with gold toothpicks and intestine. "It's Girls Just Want To Have Fun."

" _Goro_."

"Five minutes. Your shoes are ugly."

"I can't believe you."

"I'm endearing."

"You really are."

"I- oh."

"Gotcha there, didnt I?"

"For a guy who likes Death Cab For Cutie you have an abundance of Pat Benatar CDs."

"Oh my _God_."

"I don't judge."

"They were on sale."

"All twelve of them?"

"Goro."

"Sorry. I like your eyes."

"I like your legs."

"Getting frisky are we? What happened to the guy from earlier?"

"With three minutes left it's kind of _all or nothing_ , wouldn't you say?"

Reality settles like half-melted gelatine down the throats of people who can't breathe. He can't breathe. He doesn't have his throat.

"I've got family stuff too", Goro rushes (it's comforting to know that, for all his literary skill, he doesn't know how to use that particular tongue. He stumbles on vowels), "I _still_ do. Just... just try not to let it take control. Once it takes control, you're not coming back. You're gone. Try keep something for yourself, something to keep you anchored. Don't lose yourself in wanting... penance, for others."

He stresses on penance.

"The wall."

"What?"

Akira stands clumisly and walks back to Goro's bedroom. "Look at the space between my closet and the bedside table, the handles that match up with the drawers."

"I- okay."

"You've got it too. There's some-"

"Peeling paint", Goro answers, "I could never be bothered painting the room properly."

"Could have hired an interior decorator."

"Could have."

"Two minutes. Have you ever wanted to kill someone?"

"Yes", this is russian roulette, "Why do you have photos of your friends up but nothing else?"

"It makes me feel like I feel anything at all. Who did you want to kill?"

"My father", his _father_ , "Why do you think you can't feel anything?"

"I- it's hard to explain."

"I've got a minute and a half to spare."

"I get all itchy when I get too close to women- especially blondes", he has so much spit in his mouth, "My parents moved me to Tokyo because they couldn't deal with my behaviour. Ann's a touchy person by nature and I'm too scared to tell her to stop being so friendly because we're supposed to be friends and my teacher tried- tried to fucking _blow me_ my first week here and every night I see- I just see-"

"You can trust me."

"I see my aunts face", she tastes like burnt wood, "I feel like she's _haunting_ me. I'm so paranoid that I can't even- I- I thought you were a girl and I almost fucking cried because I don't think I'd even be able to-"

"Akira, breathe."

"I-I'm _so_ sorry."

"Close your eyes."

"I-"

"Come on."

There's something neon behind his eyelids.

"I can't believe you have a Breakfast Club magnet on your fridge, that movie _sucks_ ", he chokes out. Goro smiles, he's sure of it.

"So you did look around."

"Key word is look. Goro."

"Akira."

"Don't delete my number off your phone when we switch back."

"I won't."

" _Please_." He hates how desperate he sounds. How whiny and apologetic he feels. He mourns his own dignity.

"Akira, open your eyes."

"I don't want to."

"But you can."

A cold nose nudges his arm and slowly, his senses tickle. His nose scrunches and he sneezes, dust and coffee settling in the air.

"Bless you", it's Goro's voice now. It's more controlled and it sounds higher. Akira blinks at his own hand, closing and opening his fist over and over. It feels unfamilar and less attached- like something is missing. Like he's missing a whole limb.

"Akira?"

"I'm here", his voice isn't, "I'm back."

"How do you feel?"

"Sick", Mona nudges him again and he runs his trembling fingers through the cats fur, "I miss you."

"Me too."

"Stay in contact with me."

"I want to."

"But?"

Akira digs his nails into his own arm.

"I've got work in fifteen minutes. I need to get ready."

"Goro."

"I'm going to call you tonight and we can tell each other about our days", the other continues, "Send me pictures of Mona in class, I don't believe that you actually bring him."

"I do."

"So prove it", silence, "I'm not going to drop you, Akira."

"You thought about it."

"I did."

"What changed your mind?"

Silence.

"I've got to go."

He misses the noise of Goro's apartment.

"Okay."

"I'll talk to you tonight."

"Okay."

"Remember to eat."

"Promise me."

"I do", so much fucking silence, "Akira-"

"I'll be okay", _I won't be I won't be_ , "I'm okay. Go."

"Okay. Okay, bye."

"Bye."

Akira holds the phone to his ear for too long, listening to a blank screen. Mona rubs his face on his paw. After what feels like hours, Sojiro takes the thin metal out of his hands and puts it aside. His apron is loose and Akira wants to roll under the bed and die.

"You okay?"

"Not really." _Not really_.

"I called in sick for you", Sojiro reaches down and scratches Mona's head. "You should get some sleep, I'll wake you up for lunch."

"Thank you."

Sojiro doesn't leave. Akira looks up.

"The guy woke up at five in the morning", Sojiro says, squinting behind his glasses, "I guess that was the first inkling on it not being you."

"Was he nice to you?"

"Frazzled", he leans back, "I sat him down and gave him a coffee. Good kid. Called your pyjamas ugly about five times."

"Why did he wait so long to call?"

"You'll have to ask him", the man shakes his head, "Get some rest now. Text your friends and let them know you're okay, too."

"Okay."

"Yell if you need anything."

And then... and then he glances to the spot.

The fifteen centimetre space where the dust kind of laid and where somewhere in Tokyo the paint cracked. Two handles like eyes. Like a face.

And a post-it note dead centre.

It's a badly fucking drawn flower. It's really ugly. It's blue and it's not even a dandelion. Akira laughs into his hands, choking a little. He breathes too heavily and he cries. He tries to ignore the bruise on his wrist and cries.

The attic smells of citrus, somehow.


End file.
